


Taking Liberties

by romanticalgirl



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 11:44:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Say it again</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking Liberties

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 8-1-09

Nate hates Australia.

Not just because he's done with Iraq and wants to be home, but because everyone's ready to let go. He wishes he could, but he's stuck being the LT and that means that, no matter what, he has to be the one who makes sure nothing goes wrong. Shit rolls downhill and he's going to be the one there to stop it.

Which is why, even though he has a very nice hotel room and 24 hours with which to enjoy it, he's at the local club being punished with what someone with a bass guitar and a drum machine duped people into believing was music and weaving his way through an ocean of bodies.

"Brad." It's not hard to find him. He stands a good head above everyone else and that's when he's not standing on a chair, arms raised up to the heavens and doing what Nate can only assume is some sort of dance. People are standing all around the chair, women and men with their hands all over him like he's become public property since he dropped his shirt on the table beside him. "Brad."

Nate's well aware of the cracks in the Iceman veneer that Brad wears. He's seen him watch the kids suffering in the wake of the war, seen him weep at the sight of an innocent boy shot on his orders. Nate knows better than anyone that Brad's not the Iceman. He's painfully human.

And very, very drunk.

"LT." Brad reaches down, bending over to catch Nate's hand. He tugs, all of his considerable strength brought to bear and he hoists Nate up onto the chair with him. Brad smells like beer and sweat and perfume and suddenly the hands that were stroking Brad's thighs and stomach are at Nate's back, pushing him closer to Brad. Brad winds a hand around Nate's waist and sways against him, another mockery of dancing. "What're you doing here?"

"You're drunk."

"I _am_." Brad laughs and tugs Nate closer. "I am and I intend to stay that way until I'm required to set foot on that aircraft carrier to get my ass hauled home."

"Brad."

"Don't disapprove, Nate." Nate's eyes widen, but he doesn't think Brad even realizes what he's just done, that he's called him Nate. "Just blowing off steam. Better like this than killing Encino Man with my bare hands, right?"

"I don't want to have to bail you out of jail."

"You'd bail me out of jail? That's sweet." Brad grins and then turns his head away, roaring as another song starts up. Someone passes up another couple of beers and Nate finds one in his hands. He's too close to Brad, his inner censors have shut off.

"I'm your commanding officer. It's part of my job description." Nate tries to hand the beer down to one of the blondes at their feet, but she ignores him, or ignores the beer anyway, her hands sliding up the back of his thighs until he closes the slight distance between him and Brad just to stay upright. Brad shifts and brackets Nate's legs with his own, his hand in the small of Nate's back. "Come on, please?"

Brad's finger brushes Nate's lower lip, tracing it back and forth from one side to the other. "Say that again."

"What?" Nate's no fool. He knows very well that this has turned into something completely out of hand. "Please?"

"Yeah." Brad's voice is barely above a whisper, but Nate can hear it, clear as day, even with the music too loud in the background. "That."

Nate smiles and eases off the chair, ignoring the annoyed sounds of the gathered crowd hoping for something more than they're getting. Brad grabs his shirt and looks down at him, eyes dark with something Nate's tired of ignoring. He reaches a hand up to Brad. "Please?"

**

Brad looks around the hotel room and Nate can feel himself starting to blush. It's not that Brad's looking and seeing Nate's things spilling out of his duffel or that Nate's fatigues are draped over the chair. It's the _way_ Brad's looking, like he's committing all of it to memory, like he knows that this is the start of something.

"You brought me back to your hotel."

"I can't take you back to the ship like this."

" _I_ have a hotel, Nate." This time Nate knows it's deliberate, as deliberate as the way Brad's walking toward him, as deliberate as the look in his eye. "Say it again."

Nate shakes his head once. It's not quite a refusal. A delaying tactic at best. Brad smiles, predatory and intent, his eyes on Nate's mouth. "You're drunk and disorderly, Sergeant."

"I'm not disorderly right now." Brad steps closer, crowding Nate so that the bed is against the back of Nate's knees.

"You are drunk."

"Am I?" Brad takes another step and he's too close, towering over Nate even though only a few inches separate them in height. "Say it again." He reaches out, his finger tracing Nate's jaw. "Come on. I know your mother taught you manners."

"Why should I say it? I'm not asking for anything." He doesn't pull away from Brad's touch, doesn't lean into it. Brad's slow smile settles in Nate's stomach then sinks down to his groin, turning his body hot.

"You're not?" Brad leans in that last little bit, his mouth just above Nate's like a promise, the apple tempting Eve. "You don't want anything, Nate?"

"I have a hotel room, I have room service and I have all the free cable I can watch. What else could I possibly want?"

Brad growls somewhere deep in his chest and the noise sends reverberations down Nate's spine. "I think you want something else. I think you've wanted it for a long time, but you're too afraid to admit that you want it, too afraid to take it."

"I'm not afraid of you," Nate breathes against Brad's lips.

"Then say it again."

Nate swallows hard and reaches out, his fingers curling in the damp blue fabric of Brad's t-shirt. He can feel Brad's lips against his, can taste the hunger. "Please."

Brad groans and his hand cups the back of Nate's head, pulling him into a hard, demanding kiss. Nate moans, opening his mouth to the pressure of Brad's tongue, pulling at Brad's shirt until their bodies are together, chest to chest.

"Please."

Brad tugs Nate's shirt over his head and then pulls his own off, tossing both aside. Nate moves in, his mouth moving over the skin he watched other people touch, watched glisten with sweat in the club's pulsating lights. His mouth moves over Brad's chest, tongue finding a nipple and teasing it, flicking over the hard nub before he catches it between his teeth and sucks on it. "Fuck, yes," Brad's head falls back and his hand stays on the crown of Nate's head, cradling it and holding Nate against his chest.

Nate works his way over to Brad's other nipple, lavishing the same treatment on it. Brad forgoes words, making low noises as Nate sucks at his skin until the flesh is tender and swollen. Nate snakes a hand down to Brad's crotch, curving his palm around Brad's erection and squeezing lightly. "Tell me what you want."

"I've got a fucking list," Brad assures him, voice rough. "You want me to start from the top, the bottom, or in the middle?"

Nate unfastens Brad's jeans, the task made easier by the earlier drunken revelry. His hand slides easily past the broken zipper and he squeezes again, watching Brad as he arches into Nate's touch. "How about the third item from the top?"

"Fuck, Nate," Brad's voice breaks just enough to make Nate pause. "I'm not fucking joking about this."

Nate looks up at Brad and then sinks down to his knees, keeping his eyes on Brad's as he frees Brad's dick and then brushes it against his lips, breathing on the slick head. "Neither am I."

Brad's breath stutters as Nate takes him into his mouth, the weight and heft of Brad's cock heavy on his tongue. He tightens around Brad, sucking at the swollen, thick flesh, feeling the thrum of blood pulsing through it. He can feel heat and pressure, saliva thick and slick as he starts moving along Brad's length, pulling off to just the head before taking him deep to the base. Brad hand scrabble at Nate's short hair, scratching at his scalp as Nate sucks him, swallowing and constricting his mouth around the ridge until Brad's hips are jerking erratically, until all Nate's senses are reduced to the smell of Brad's skin, the feel of Brad's cock and fingers and the sharp, bitter taste of Brad's come.

"Fuck. Christ." Brad sinks to his knees as Nate pulls back, wiping his chin and swollen mouth. Without a wasted second, Brad kisses him again, tongue fucking past Nate's lips as his hand slides down, undoing Nate's pants with military precision. "Say it again."

Nate's breath hitches as Brad wraps his hand around him, long fingers curled tight around Nate's dick. He leans into Brad, his head resting on one of Brad's shoulders, his hand curling around the other one. He turns his head to press his face against Brad's neck, breathing roughly. “Please.”

Brad buries a moan against Nate's temple, stroking him firm and tight. Nate gasps, thrusting into Brad's fist until the world goes white, blurry with want and subverted need, exploding like ordnance behind Nate's eyes as he comes, feeling Brad stroke the thick wetness over his skin.  



End file.
